The Trees Won't Tell
by Kumarahaz
Summary: Aela and Skjor decide to get close on their nightly hunting. Now updated to be a little more descriptive. ;)


Two dark creatures made a clear contrast to the biting cold snow, shimmering like crystal powder in the moonlight. They were fast, leaping through the woods on two or four legs as it fit the terrain, and communicated with each other in snarls and howls as they closed in on the big elk they had been pursuing. The animal's hooves sunk much deeper into the snow than the big paws of its predators and was close to collapse.

It was Skjor who made the final leap at the elk, grabbing its neck with his long, strong arms and felling it. He held it down with his massive body so that Aela, who was slightly smaller in her werewolf shape, could sink her fangs into its jugular vein. The warm blood rushing into her mouth was sweeter than honey to her and she gulped down many mouthfuls before Skjor snarled at her, reminding her that they could not stay forever.

Their blood lust rang strong in their veins, but they had learned to maintain a bit of clear thinking over the years they had prowled the night. Before they knew it, they could change back to human form and stand alone and naked in the middle of the deep winter woods. Humans had a pitiable lack of fur.

After satisfying his own hunger quickly and efficiently, Skjor grabbed the hind legs of the animal and hurled it over his back.

"Who gets the antlers?" Skjor growled as they were leaping back to the camp. He was barely at all slowed down by the weight on his back.

"You deserve them. You could have felled this one alone."

"I gave the kill to you. And I believe I will give the trophy to you to keep. It would not be fair otherwise."

"Thank you, Brother."

They made it back to the camp before the transformation. Skjor took out their clothes from the tent, which was too small to stand upright in, and seemed unaffected by the climate and got dressed as if he was standing in a warm room and had all the time in the world. He always turned his left side to her out of decency, since she knew that his vision in that direction was limited unless he turned his head. This also meant that he would not easily catch her peeking at him. She tried to resist this urge as well as she could, but as they spent more and more time together hunting she became overwhelmed with feelings that did not quite fit a Brother and Sister, even if they were not truly related. He had caught her a few times, his huntsman's instincts telling him when he was watched, and he only stared into her eyes calmly, neither encouraging or discouraging her.

He was not young any more, and not much remained of what she remembered to be a mane of black hair, back when she had visited Jorrvaskr as a child to see her mother. He had always missed an eye, ever since The Great War, so it was not any more strange to her than the shape of his nose or any other trait. He had never been different to her.

Aela slipped inside her clothes quickly and darted into the tent to avoid the temptation. Inside everything was where they left it, and the coals from the fire before were glowing, giving a relatively comfortable temperature. At least here she could not see him.

Skjor peeked inside. "Are you going to help me with the elk before it turns into an icicle?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, of course." She scrambled to her feet and re-entered the biting cold night air.

"You seem bothered by something," Skjor remarked as he handed her a leather apron and a butcher's knife. He had already skinned and beheaded the animal and proceeded to prepare the hide while she took care of the meat in the lantern light. The moon was hidden by the trees now.

"I don't know, regular ups and downs I suppose. Brain meltdowns."

"Did it melt for a reason?" he asked, keeping his one eye fixed on the hide.

"I'd rather not talk right now or I might lose a finger, or my entire hand for that matter," she warned.

"Naturally, Sister. We will talk later, in the tent."

They worked efficiently and Aela refrained from looking up at him, even though he had turned his left side to her.

When the parts that were not worth keeping had been disposed of in the woods and the rest was neatly packed and put in a locked box to keep it safe from predators, they washed their hands in hot water and soap in silence before finally going into the tent. Aela hoped that Skjor had forgotten about whatever he wanted to talk about. She took off her fur coat and crawled down into her bed furs, closing her eyes. It was silent for a while, but Skjor did not put out the lantern and lie down. She popped an eye open and saw that he was sitting on his bedroll, looking at her.

"Aela, when a man gets to the point in his life where he knows that he is past his best days he either learns to live with it or he gets desperate to feel young again by chasing youthful faces. I need to know if I am imagining things because I am more desperate than I thought I was, or if you actually do want me. If this insults you, you don't need to reply and I will take it as a negative answer."

Aela felt her body temperature rise considerably and opened both of her eyes. She swallowed. "You are not imagining it, Skjor. Besides, you have the body of a man half your age."

At this Skjor gave her a wide grin. "Good. I am very flattered."

Feeling suddenly bold by his confession, Aela pulled aside her covers and sat up. Returning his grin with a mysterious smile, she started to unlace the corsage of her leather armor slowly under his eyes. When she was almost done she stopped. "Take off your shirt." He obeyed. She spent some time admiring his exquisitely v-shaped torso for a while, lingering on the swelling muscles that she could barely wait to touch.

She undid the last hook, leaving the front of her dress open down to her belly, and crawled over to him. She grabbed his head between her hands, looking into his eyes, one deep and scorching black in the darkness and the other solid white. "This is not what Brothers and Sisters of a pack do," she whispered in his ear.

"The trees won't tell anyone, and neither will I," Skjor said in a normal voice, as if to demonstrate it.

"Me neither," she promised and kissed him, finally letting her hands roam over his hard upper body while his hands sought and cupped her exposed breasts. She could swear that she felt a lingering taste of blood on his tongue. Even in her human form, the beast blood ran strong enough in her veins to respond to it with excitement. A deep growl vibrated deep inside her throat as she pressed into Skjor, straddling his lap.

His mouth left hers to trail down to her breasts instead while his hands moved up and down her already exposed thighs. When she started to grind herself against his groin he pushed up her loincloth and grabbed her buttocks, aiding the motion.

The tent was far from warm, but Aela did not feel the cold any more. She felt unbearably hot and restrained by her clothes and could not get them off fast enough. She had to climb off Skjor to get out of her armor and discarded her underwear with it, watching Skjor push his pants down to reveal thighs that seemed sculpted out of stone. He kept his loincloth on, though.

She crawled up to him with the grace of a predator, her eyes fixed on the bulge, but as soon as she was close to him he pushed her down on the furs with a wide grin. "Not yet. Old wolves have learned to wait."

Aela was already half delirious from his skilled mouth and hands when he finally pushed inside. He started out with slow, shallow strokes to aim for the spot he had already caressed with his fingers and it was only moments before Aela shuddered with pleasure. Soon he drove deeper and harder and reality faded away as she drowned in the sensations.

The birds were singing in the treetops and sunlight shone in through the gaps in the tent flap when Aela woke up under the furs, still wrapped in Skjor's arms. The trees would not tell. There would be many more hunts. Many more nights.


End file.
